


12 Minutes

by ZoS



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 08:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: Andy has a way of getting what she wants, especially when it comes to Miranda Priestly.





	12 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to just be a short, porny piece, but once again my mind got ahead of me.

"Are you nervous?" Andy asks as Miranda affixes her new diamond (!) earrings to her earlobes, a task she can manage very well on her own, thank you very much, but she supposes Miranda wants everything to be perfect tonight and, as always, Miranda doesn't trust anyone but herself to achieve utter perfection. That tells Andy that she might be as nervous as herself.

"Are you?" Miranda deflects the question blankly and Andy has to restrain from rolling her eyes, especially when Miranda's fingers are handling a pretty sensitive spot on her body. Her face doesn't give anything away, nor does her voice, so Andy decides to just be honest. Mostly.

"I'm okay. I think." In all truthfulness, she's pretty scared. Pretty goddamn, fucking terrified, actually. Terrified of embarrassing Miranda, terrified of making a fool of herself, terrified of everyone's opinions and judgement. Well, not so much those as how they could affect Miranda and whether it would be enough to convince her that she's making a mistake being with Andy after all.

Andy knows that those concerns are moot since Miranda, in the last six months, has done nothing but prove to Andy how much she loves her and how valuable Andy is in her life--the same way Andy feels about her--but a small doubt always lingers in the back of her mind, telling her that she'll never reach Miranda's league and that Miranda can do so much better than her.

So, yeah, her nerves are pretty raw at the moment.

Miranda seems to read her mind because she finishes fastening the second earring to her earlobe--god, the weight of it feels good, luxurious--and gives Andy that loving, stop-being-so-uptight look. Funny, coming from her.

She takes Andy's biceps in her hands and it's warm and comforting, and her tone is unusually tender when she says, "It's going to be fine."

Andy thinks that she might be saying that for her own sake, too, trying to convince herself as much as Andy.

This was a big decision to make, one that took them a long time and a lot of postponing to reach. Andy has never had to "come out" with a relationship and announce it to the world. Then again, she's never been anywhere near Miranda's status and fame. And even Miranda, who has presented every new beau at some event or other and had every gossip rag start speculating immediately, has never had to do something like this.

Meaning: go out and tell the world, "This is my new girlfriend, Andrea Sachs. Yes, she's half my age. Yes, she used to be my assistant. And yes, she's very much female. Does anybody have something to say to my face?"

And while her script probably won't go exactly that way, Andy knows that she intends to use her scaring mechanism to mask her trepidation.

Because this will bring a lot of attention to her--there's no question about that. And while there's no such thing as bad publicity and this might actually increase sales for _Runway_ , Miranda is still a very private person that doesn't enjoy people sticking their noses into and picking apart her love life.

But this has to happen and they both know that. It's better they do it their way, with precision and style, rather than one of these days getting caught by the paparazzi, who would, no doubt, turn this into a scandal.

And what they have is far from scandalous. It's real and it's beautiful and it's _theirs_ , which is one of the reasons it pains Andy to put it out there for the whole world to see, especially after the intimate bliss the last six months have been, but she also knows that they can't hide it forever. Not if they actually want a real relationship.

Which they both do.

So, a date has finally been set. Every few months, Miranda is invited to a dinner party hosted by Irv Ravitz, Chairman of _Elias-Clarke Publications_ , and along with board members and shareholders, every editor from every division is expected to show up (if they don't want to piss off the person in charge of their budgets). Along with a plus-one.

That will be Andy tonight, sparkling on Miranda's arm, looking royal in her new _Valentino_ dress designed specifically for her. (Mr. Garavani took no issue when Miranda carefully explained her request to him and, in fact, he seemed to be rooting for them, so perhaps they'll be okay after all. Then again, Irv Ravits is a far cry from Valentino.)

She'll be nice and polite and make conversation, and she'll laugh at unfunny jokes told by rich, white men to make them feel good and not stir trouble. And maybe she'll also try to make some new contacts since she's still very much part of the publication world, if to some extent.

And tomorrow morning, word will have gotten out that Miranda is dating her much younger, female ex-assistant--because a room full of magazine and book editors can't keep their mouths shut about something like that, and that's the whole point, Andy reminds herself--and she and Miranda will become the new water cooler talk until Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears do something stupid. Which probably won't take too long.

Just to make the blow a little less hard, though, Andy has already left a voicemail for her parents, letting them know that everything is fine but they might see her in the tabloids and entertainment news come tomorrow, and she can't fucking wait for the phone call she'll receive once they find out.

Miranda's daughters, on the other hand, have known for quite some time. They also took a while to get used to the idea, but in recent weeks Andy has begun to be included in their activities and chatter, and earlier this evening, before leaving for their father's, they gave her some tips on how to deal with the press because they're already self-proclaimed pros. Andy was grateful.

So, all in all, things could be a lot worse. Now she just has to worry about what the rest of the world says about her. She sighs.

"Don't worry, darling," Miranda says and rubs her hands up and down Andy's arms. She, once again, seems to be privy to Andy's internal monologue because she continues, "If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, they'll have to deal with me."

"So, what? I'm your demsel in distress?" Andy tries for humor, but she thinks her smile is pretty tremulous.

But Miranda, instead of rolling her eyes at her as per usual, actually gives her a pretty predatory smile and Andy can't stop the shiver that runs up her spine at trying to picture the images Miranda's mind is sure to be conjuring up at her suggestion. In fact, it gives her an idea.

She returns Miranda's smile with her own sly grin and drawls, "You know, I can think of something that might calm both our nerves." Miranda's expression is blank until Andy runs a single finger down the length of her arm and she catches on. Then her eyes do roll.

"We don't have time for that, Andrea."

"Yeah, we do," she insists, her smile growing more confident. She's always loved a good challenge, which is probably what made her so good at her job as Miranda's assistant.

Miranda's having none of it, though. "My driver will be here shortly."

"So?" Andy barely lets her finish. "I'm ready to go. You're ready to go. I bet I can make you come in just a few minutes and won't even mess up our make-up or dresses."

She makes her voice sound as sexy and alluring as she knows how to while moving closer to Miranda, trapping her between her vanity and herself. Her efforts have the desired effect because Miranda opens her mouth to object before Andy's words fully catch up with her brain. Then her breath catches in her throat--probably at the prospect of getting to come (classy as she is, she goes crazy when Andy talks dirty to her).

"Y-you--" she stammers, then clears her throat because Miranda hates stammering. "Andrea."

Andy knows she's trying to sound stern, but she also can't hide the intrigue from her tone. Almost there.

"What do you say?" Andy lowers her voice to a husk and watches Miranda's throat work as she gulps. "Do we have a bet?"

"We--" Then Miranda registers her words again and frowns. "A bet?"

"Mhm." She nods and smooths a hand down the silk covering Miranda's hip. Miranda looks down at her hand like it's her first time seeing it and Andy can tell that she's already getting turned on. "I bet I can make you come before your driver gets here, no ruined make-up, no wrinkles."

Once again, Miranda's breath catches and shudders. She opens her mouth, possibly to rebuke Andy, but then, to Andy's delighted astonishment, says instead, "And what do you get if you win?"

She looks intently into Andy's eyes, one elegant eyebrow raised. Definitely intrigued. Jackpot!

"Besides giving you an orgasm and the satisfaction of defeating Miranda Priestly?" Andy shrugs, but then she gets an idea. Her eyes light up and her smile grows sly again. Slyer. She stares at Miranda knowingly.

Miranda frowns, but finally she figures it out and glares. "No," she says firmly. "I told you I am not doing that. Ever."

"Well," Andy replies softly and moves even closer. "Then I guess you'll just have to try really hard not to come."

They stare at each other, neither relenting. But Andy can see the pulse jumping at the base of Miranda's neck, can see her hands beginning to tremble. Soon... soon...

Miranda sniffs and looks at her wrist watch. "You have 12 minutes."

_Ka-ching!_ Challenge accepted. Andy's smile widens. Miranda looks regal as hell for someone who's about to get her brains fucked on her bedroom vanity.

"That's 11 more than I need," Andy says and doesn't give Miranda a chance to retort before pushing her onto the vanity and lifting the silk gown up to her knees, being very mindful of wrinkles since she doesn't want to lose the bet over a technicality.

Then her hand steals beneath the fabric and finds Miranda's silk thong (which she always wears with evening gowns to avoid panty lines). She doesn't want to waste precious seconds removing it, so she merely moves it to the side and--thank god!--Miranda is getting wet already and Andy has never felt so sexy.

She wastes no time gathering the moisture at Miranda's entrance and spreading it over her slit, labia, and clit. She knows Miranda loves it when she goes inside, but they don't have enough time for that and she needs to focus on surer ways to get Miranda off quickly.

And so she starts by drawing slow circles with her thumb around her clit, trying to lure it out of its hood. Miranda gasps and jerks, then resumes--or attempts to, at least--her blank gaze. Nice try.

Andy wants to put her tongue in Miranda's mouth because she knows how that gets her going, but she can't. Not without ruining their lipstick. Instead she leans close, as close as she can without touching, and looks into Miranda's eyes while she repeatedly squeezes her clit between her index and middle fingers. Miranda stares right back, her breath coming heavy through her nostrils. She's trying not to make any noise.

Andy looks down at the watch on Miranda's wrist. 11 minutes.

At the rate Miranda grows wetter beneath her fingers, she thinks she might be done before her deadline. But Andy is never complacent and she intends to give this task her whole.

She takes to circling the clit again, this time in smaller, quicker strokes that she knows will build Miranda up nicely. She also ends each circle by pressing her thumb to the bone. Miranda lets out an involuntary, breathy whine, then presses her lips together.

9 minutes.

Andy's movements are now faster, more determined. She rubs up and down, up and down, not giving the clit time to rest until Miranda squeezes her eyes shut, furrows her brow, and tilts her head back. Her fingers are wrapped around the vanity's edge on either side of her legs in a white-knuckle grip.

"You're trying not to come, aren't you?" Andy says sultrily, very much aware of the patronizing tone her voice takes. If Miranda was herself enough, she'd probably give her her best death glare. As it is, only a moan slips past her lips before she presses them into a tight line and shakes her head vehemently.

"No?" Andy prods and presses harder with her thumb.

Miranda takes a moment to catch her breath before grounding out, "No." Her voice is rough.

7 minutes. Damn, Miranda would rather withhold her own orgasm from herself than give Andy the satisfaction of beating her. No worries, though. Andy still has 7 more minutes and she's very good.

"So, you'd rather ache all night, walk around with soaked panties and a throbbing pussy,"--Miranda cries out--"just so I would lose a bet?"

She can see that Miranda wants to shoot back, but her breathing is growing too hard and Andy is pretty sure her thoughts are getting jumbled. She does love it when Andy talks dirty to her; bet she didn't consider that secret weapon.

Andy continues smugly, "You're gonna walk around, trying to remember people's names, but all you'll be able to think about is how badly you want to get off." Miranda makes a choking sound. "You'll look even more uptight and displeased than usual, and no one will be able to figure out that it's because you've just had my fingers up your skirt and you didn't let me finish."

And, really, when Andy thinks about it, if Miranda doesn't let herself come, who's the real loser of this bet?

4 minutes. Miranda's thighs start quivering with her efforts and she's overflowing with juices, more so than usual. Maybe they should play these kinds of games more often.

Andy decides that fuck it. She shoves two fingers into Miranda without notice and Miranda throws her head back again and sobs. Andy's thumb continues to rub her clit fervently while, instead of thrusting in and out, she pushes hard and fast at Miranda's G-spot.

"Come on, Miranda," she whispers next to her ear, careful not to touch. "You know you want to. Please come for me. Please let me make you feel good. Let go."

And Miranda, delirious with pleasure, grips the vanity even tighter and rocks frantically against Andy's hand, making noises in the back of her throat that she can't seem to control.

She tenses, she shakes, she cries out for every deity out there, and Andy holds her dress further out of the way. When she's done, she slumps against the vanity, her breath coming out so fast Andy worries she might start to hyperventilate.

She carefully removes her fingers and readjusts Miranda's panties before taking her in her arms--well, one arm. With the other, she reaches for a box of tissues and wipes her wet hand. Then she looks down at Miranda's watch just in time to see the final minute coming to an end. Perfect.

"Well," she says once Miranda has ragained her equilibrium. Or most of it. "Looks like I won."

Miranda doesn't respond and she pulls back to look at her. The arm with the watch comes up to run across her forehead, and if she ruins her hair now, that's her own fault. Because Andy won, won, won.

And then Miranda confirms, "You won," in a weak, defeated tone and Andy feels like dancing. Her breathing is getting deeper now and the minutes are ticking away.

"We should probably get going. Henry must already be waiting outside," Andy says, but she can't wipe the pleased grin off her face.

"Hmph," Miranda huffs. Then, to Andy's shock, says, "He can wait," and slides off the vanity. Andy watches wide-eyed as she slowly makes her way to the bathroom, and upon exiting a couple of minutes later, she murmurs, "I need to change my underwear," and heads toward her closet.

Andy has to bite her lip to stifle a laugh, but then she remembers her lipstick.

\---

All in all, the dinner party goes well, once everyone gets over the initial shock (and Miranda assures Irv that nothing was going on between her and Andy while she still worked for her). Andy actually enjoys some of the conversation, particularly when people show genuine interest in her job and give her their business cards. Miranda gives her approving nods.

That's not the only thing Miranda gives her, though. Now Andy is in trouble, because all throughout the evening Miranda casts quick glances her way and when their gazes meet, her eyes darken and she licks her lips like a cat about to devour a bowl of milk. It makes eating very uncomfortable.

But then the time comes for Miranda to hold up her end of the bet. Andy bores her eyes into the side of her face, even though Miranda refuses to look at her. Her lips are pursed, which should make Andy pee her pants--if she were actually scared of Miranda.

But Miranda is not a person to back out of things and with the utmost grace and poise, she turns to Irv at the head of the table. "Irv, dear, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," even though she absolutely hasn't.

\---

"Miranda, I think it worked better with your jacket open, why don't you--" Mario begins, but Miranda shoots him an icy glare that has him hiding back behind his camera and muttering, "This works, too."

Andy thinks that perhaps Miranda is the only person able to rattle Testino enough to let her direct her own photoshoot.

They've been out and proud for three months and no major disasters have occured yet. Her parents are still a little upset with her and a lot upset with Miranda, but at least her dad is beginning to come around now that he sees that this relationship isn't going to end any time soon and that Andy is actually happy. Maybe he'll bring Andy's mom around with him. That would be nice. Maybe they could all meet and see that Miranda really isn't that terrifying. That'd be... terrifying.

Magazine sales, predictably, did increase in the first couple of months, but now _Mirandy_ \--as _Page Six_ has branded them--are pretty much old news.

That doesn't mean that Miranda doesn't have to fulfill her promise, no matter how bitter she is about it and no matter how much she withholds sex.

Andy is happy to be present for the photoshoot, not so much because she doesn't trust Miranda (since she can't lie and cheat her way out of this), but because this is an iconic, once-in-a-lifetime moment that she has a front seat to.

This is also her first time in the _Runway_ offices since she quit so unceremoniously in Paris two years ago, and she notes that nothing has changed in the time she's been gone. Well, except for the blinds on Miranda's office windows, which are now drawn to block out the natural light from outside.

She still can't believe that Miranda agreed to this crazy idea (but then the promise of orgasm goes a long way). Personally, she's always thought that Miranda belonged on the _Runway_ cover more than those toothpick-thin models. Miranda always balked at the idea.

But here she is now, standing behind her desk in that drool-inducing pinstriped dress and posing for Testino, who's practically vibrating with enthusiasm (and not a little fear) at shooting the Queen of Fashion herself.

Nigel finishes talking to some crew member (at this point, Andy's not sure who's who because there's so many people in the small space) and sidles up to her. "This is coming along nicely," he observes, his chin propped up on a fist.

Nigel was one of the first people to call her when news of her and Miranda's relationship broke. His first words to her were, "Six, have you lost your mind?"

Maybe she has; maybe one has to be a little bit insane to have a relationship with the Dragon Lady, but if that's the case, she never wants to get better.

"It is, isn't it?" She smiles widely, watching Miranda shoo the make-up artist away when she tries to touch her hair.

"I'll tell you, I never thought I'd see the day." Nigel shakes his head solemnly. "For years I've been telling her that she should do a cover, and every time she shut me down. How on earth did you convince her to do this?"

Just in that moment, Miranda looks up and their eyes connect over all the equipment and people. Miranda's expression then becomes smoldering as her gaze bores into Andy before turning back to the camera with a whole new level of sexiness. Andy's smile turns sly. "Oh, I have my ways."

 

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I know, the pictures weren't taken by Testino.


End file.
